Another Revolutionary Night
by Silverstar Wizard
Summary: How to tell that you've been studying too long...Jareth and the Russian Revolution? Wonderful. Just smegging wonderful.


Author: Silverstar Wizard  
Note: I've been studying the Russian Revolution for way too long. Someone should fund a study as to whether this particular topic causes mental damage…keep reading and you'll see what I mean.  
Dedication: To all my fellow socialists in training…I know you're out there.   
  
Another Revolutionary Night – A Visitation  
  
Exams were coming up on Wednesday; that meant I had only tonight, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday morning until 9 am left to review. And since Tuesday and Wednesday morning were reserved for English review, and I knew Latin pretty well, it meant that the weekend and Monday were set aside for intensive History review.  
  
Although History had been one of my favorite subjects during the year, the sheer bulk of material to review (and in some cases, relearn) was rather daunting. The sourcebook had grown, in a mere six months, from one chapter and thirty-four pages, to ten chapters and three hundred and one pages. This sourcebook of novelistic proportions covered everything from British India to World War One to the Russian Revolution. Incidentally, I'm a freshman in high school and looking forward to college.  
  
So, at ten o'clock on Sunday night, I was sitting on my bed cross-legged, trying to commit five sets of chronologies (Spawn of Satan!) to an already-full memory. It was not very entertaining, especially after having spent the past two hours outlining more or less the same material. (Author's note: e-mail me if you want the outline, it's really quite nice.) I took mental breaks every five minutes and turned the radio up several times. At ten twenty-five, the chronologies were still not learnt. I flopped backwards onto my bed, frustrated out of my mind.  
  
A soft "fwooshing" noise prompted me to sit up and open my eyes. Perhaps it was the spirit of Lenin come to help me…wishful thinking on my part, obviously, but I wasn't quite prepared for what – who, really - was actually standing in the middle of my room.  
  
"Hello," said Jareth, smirking teasingly.  
  
I rubbed my eyes a bit and shook my head. Was this an experience similar to the time when I had found Vladimir to be an incredibly sexy name after five hours of studying History? My mind does things like that sometimes.  
  
"Um…hi? Jareth?" I hopped off my bed and turned off the radio. I turned back. He was still there.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
Well, what now? "Do you know anything about the Russian Revolution?" I asked tentatively. If he was here, he might as well give me a hand studying.  
  
To my surprise, he did. "Why yes. Trotsky and I were good friends. He used to visit while he was living in Brooklyn. It was rather a shame that he had to go back to Russia."  
  
"Don't you go to Russia?"  
  
He laughed and smoothed down a wrinkle in his cape. "No, no. It's much too cold there. I try to stay in the more temperate regions. I did give him a few pointers, though, on conducting a successful revolution."  
  
This was news to me. I looked at him skeptically and reached for my notes. Flipping through the pages, I found information about the Paris Commune, the Partition of Bengal, the Freikorps…but no mention of Goblin Kings intervening in the Russian Revolution.  
  
"You're not in here," I told him somewhat sadly. Believe me, nothing would have made me happier at that point than to learn that Socialism had achieved one of its greatest successes with Jareth's help.  
  
"Of course not," he scoffed, grabbing my notes, tossing them away in a corner and seating himself next to me on the bed. "It was strictly, you understand, off the record. Lenin, although he was a nice fellow too, said I didn't have a socialist consciousness and couldn't help officially. Of course, that was fine with me, because I couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for Miliukov…he reminded me somehow of one of my own goblins." Here he paused to wipe away a tear – real or imaginary, I couldn't tell – from the corner of his eye. "And of course, I was heartbroken by the news of the murder of the Tsar and his family."  
  
"Why's that?" I asked, furiously scribbling the whole story down in my notebook. I might not be able to cite my information in class (what would my teacher think?), but it would certainly be interesting to have around.  
  
"Well, all absolute monarchs find themselves in the Labyrinth at one point or another. Someone is bound to wish them away. Usually some frustrated peasant in a poverty-stricken little village. I don't speak Russian, but the dialect of the wisher was close enough to goblin that I was able to get news of the summons. Nicholas was actually quite happy about being able to spend thirteen hours in a place that was neither a war zone nor a hotbed of political activity."  
  
I recalled his comment about Miliukov (a member of the Provisional Government, the rival government of the Petrograd Soviet). This led to a very important question.  
  
"So, wait," I asked slowly, hardly daring to hope, "are you a socialist?"  
  
He looked slightly offended. "Of course I'm a socialist, you silly girl! What a question!"  
  
Despite the fact that my greatest wish had just been granted (well, not my greatest, but still…), I was slightly dubious.  
  
"Why? I thought that monarchs were…well…not socialist. Autocratic. Socialism supports a government of the workers."  
  
"Well, think about it," he said, gesturing elegantly with gloved hands, "my kingdom consists of myself, a bunch of goblins, and some assorted other creatures, like your friends Ludo, Hoggle and Didymus. Not a trade union consciousness among them. The goblins couldn't comprehend a piece of string if you gave them a year to do it in, let alone successfully undertake to overthrow the monarchy. Every other group is a severe minority in the Underground. So practical socialism poses no threat to me personally, leaving me free to support it Aboveground. Besides, your earthly monarchs and capitalist governments are hardly – as they say – the sharpest tools in their national sheds."  
  
That made sense, I had to admit.  
  
I got up off the bed and picked up my notes again, and started thumbing through them. I sighed. Just when it was all starting to make some sort of sense, I get news of a totally new political influence. Wonderful.  
  
"Well," Jareth stated, "I hope I was able to be of some sort of help. Good luck on your exams." He extended his had, and I took it, feeling somewhat lost. "I wish I could stay," he continued, "but I have matters to attend to."  
  
"Yeah," I mumbled, still trying to digest all this new information. "Nice to see you…."  
  
And Jareth was gone as softly as he had come.   
  
I scratched my head in confusion and wondered how on earth I would explain this to my teacher.  
  
~~END 


End file.
